finding things hidden in boxes in boxes in boxes and i can’t remember collecting most of it. did these things really happen, or were they lost in translation from then to now. now is a likely time to begin again, but how do you start doing something again when you can’t remember how you did it in the first place? when you’re not sure that it really happened at all? taking time to reflect and wonder, a splash of nostalgia and regret wash over my face, and yet i don’t feel clean. but also not dirty. no longer hidden away in the back room, but also not really putting myself out on display. for so long there was no wondering, no wandering, no listless and no profane, but should i allow that to begin again?
non bis in idem
